


Warmth

by smashedglassglitteringlikestars



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Food mention, Ineffable Wives, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Other, Post-Canon, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, happy crying, mentions of soft bellies, peach - Freeform, the food mentioned is a peach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smashedglassglitteringlikestars/pseuds/smashedglassglitteringlikestars
Summary: Their first taste of freedom.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #11 "Firsts"





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for SOSH's GTA Round 11: Firsts!

The first thing she notices is warmth. Why is she so warm? Her bed is usually cold by morning, and with help from the draft of an apartment that works to be extraordinarily dreary. But no, she’s  _ comfortably _ warm, and the soft embrace of sleep threatens to drag her back under until the warm thing -- or warm  _ someone _ \-- that she’s curled up against shifts with the softest of croaked hums. 

Crowley’s eyes snap open, met with semi-darkness that’s tinged with a golden glow peeking out from heavy curtains above the bed. She blinks once, adjusting, and finally gains a semblance of mind to recognize where she is: Aziraphale’s shop. She had only been up in the flat several times, most of them being rather unpleasant circumstances. 

But the way her happily limp body is wedged against a warm something tells her this is good, even pleasant. Until she turns her head to the left, and sees the most beautiful mess of curls frame the most beautiful face in existence, the most beautiful cheek resting on her shoulder. Aziraphale is sound asleep, cheeks puffing out with each exhale, flushed lips parted. 

Crowley swallows and makes a vow not to move for the next eternity so she can preserve this exact position; yet she breaks it as soon as she realizes that the warm thing she’s surrounded by is a soft angel arm, a soft angel stomach, and a soft angel chest. Skin to skin, chest to back, heart to heart. 

Crowley stops breathing, stops everything altogether, and it takes another several cycles of an angel’s breathing for her to jolt completely conscious.

_ No Heaven… No Hell… Toasting… A nightingale-- _

**Freedom** . 

She gazes at her angel’s face a little longer, tastes the air, fills her senses with  _ pure  _ angel. It burns, but it’s wonderful, knowing that she’s this close, that this is more than real. But she has to touch her, has to make sure--

She twists her spine to reach behind and drag softened fingers down that pink cheek, one that’s reminiscent of a delicious peach. And she does it again. Again, until she’s holding her cheek, brushing her thumb over the line of her lips, watching as they come together and kiss at her fingertip.

Crowley can’t hold back anymore, and sniffs as her eyes water with tears she’s been waiting eons to shed. As Aziraphale stirs, she reaches for Crowley more, traps her close to drag her lips from her thumb to her wrist, her wrist to her forearm. She’s sleepy, but knows her demon well enough to recognize the slight frame tangled in her arms. So she aims to tangle her more, kiss her more, until all those tears disappear. Lips come to Crowley’s neck as Aziraphale feels around with closed eyes and a bastard’s grin on her face, finding no resistance to the soft pleasures she’s bestowing. 

Aziraphale wins a giggled “ _ Angel _ \--,” and they both know this is the first day of the rest of their lives. 


End file.
